THK PRAIRIE FATIMKB. BY EUOKNE BARRY. IV* lived here now for thirty years, and, etran ger, I'll be bound There's not a better farm in all this Western country round. But somehow at this time of year, like fever in the blood, A restless feeling o'er me steals that's hard to be withstood. I can not work, 1 can not rest, but far away would room. For now the orchards are in bloom in my New England home. I've prospered well; these lovel fields as far as you can seo, They are bought and paid for, and they all be long to me. I never could have done 60 well at homo, you raav be sure; I often smilo to think upon thoßo farms so thin and poor a But as 1 sit behind my team and plough the deep black loam, I see the apple-trees in bloom 'round my New England home. Straight east I draw my furrows wide to meet the rising sun, Then turn and drive straight westward, and so till day is done ; And then in autumn's glorious time, when days are cohn and bright. Miles upon miles of ripening grain wave in tbo golden light. But when at night 1 Beek my bed, in visions sweet I roam The hills of old New England around my child hood's home. My boys are grown to stalwart men, roy girla ore fair to see. They're proud of this free Western laud, and wonder much at me: But they have never utood upon the mountain s summit grand, Nor seen old Ocean's crested waves break foam ing on tho strand. .... Nor ever known the sweet delight in forest wilds to roam. Nor seon tbo apple trees in bloom 'round my Now England home. The swallow seeks the grove where first it saw the son's bright gleam, Tho SHlmou leaps the torrent's fall to reach its native stream, A thotisuud leagues tb<s wild gooso flies on tire loss wing o'erhead, Straight as nn arrow to tbo bleak, baro North where it was bred ; So in tho spring my faithful heart, holding all el so in scorn, Turns back to old New England - the homo whore I was born. Though here I've caßt my lot for life and hero I must remain. Till death shall plough me under like stubble on the plain, Make not my grave in this strange land, but placo me if vou will Within my father's burial lot, upon the wind swept hill, Where.l may watch the mountains glow aud ocean break in foam, And see in spring the orchards bloom 'round mv New England homo, —New England Magazine. STORM-TOSSED. A Perilous Voyage on Lake Ontario. m W. I FRENCH. One fine June day in the year 1872, a young couple might have been seen strolling through a grove of magnifi cent beech and maple trees toward the shore of Lake Ontario. They were en gaged lovers, and their names were re spectively Harry LeMar and Bessie Corbett. The young couple were botli resi dents of the city of Hochester, and were down with a party of ladies and gcntle meu from the city to enjoy the cool lake breezes for a time. Harry was a handsome young fellow of six and twenty, a little too quick tempered perhaps, but a good fellow witlial, and thoroughly devoted to liis | betrothed. Bessie was a handsome, vivacious girl of twenty, kind and considerate as a general thing toward others, with one I exception: when it interfered with the gratification of some personal pleasure, then Bessie was decidedly selfish. As her parents always indulged her every whim and wish from childhood she had not improved any with years. The day was not very warm as there was a good breeze blowing on shore, but when they got down to tho beach they found the big waves were rolling high. They had come down for the purpose of going around a point, which ran out a couple of hundred yards into the lake, in a boat, aud then rowing back into a little inlet or bay where some handsome water-lilies grew, which they had ob served the night before. Finding the water so rough Harry said: "I do not think we had better venture out on the lake to-day, but wait for a I time when tho weather is calmer. lam j not much of a sailor, as you doubtless I know, and a Oath in tlie Jake with the waves running high, might bo rather dangerous." "Now, Harry, you know there is not a bit of danger in going arouud there; you only refuse to go to spite me for flirting with Ed. Brooks, that's all." "No, Bessie, you are mistaken; I never play the baby act. I do not con sider it safe to go around that point in the present wind. While one might make it safe enough, it might also end in disaster." "A truce to your fears, Harry," she replied; "I will flirt twice as bad with Brooks to-night if you don't row me around that point." "You may flirt with him all vow choose," replied Harry. "But I will not imperil your life and my own foi the sake of satisfying a whim." *You may call it a whim if you wish,* fch# retorted half angrily, "but if you will not row me around, I can and will go alone, and I don't think you will lei me do that." Angered more by her manner than hor words, ho hotly replied: "No! 1 will not even let you go at all. If you are determined to have the flowers I will go aione, to show you that it is not physical fear which deters me. But 1 can see no reason in the venture." "Who gave you authority over me, to restraiu mo from doing anything I wish ?" and she started toward the boat. "No, you shall not do this!" he ex claimed and, stepping before her and giving the boat a push from shore, leaped into it. Seizing the oars, he plied them vigorously, and, as tho water was not so rough near the beach, made good progress. He glanced back once at Bessie, standing on the shore looking after him with an expression half of anger, half of sorro . on her face. Already she was commencing to re pent the hasty words that were causing him to venture out in the boat,. As lie neared the end of the print the water grew rougher and rougher, till it re quired all his strength and skill to keep the boat from turning with the wind and waves. Slowly ho forged ahead and had nearly rounded tlio point in safety, when one of his oars snapped in twain. His boat whirled sharply around and commenced to drift with tho waves and he was powerless to prevent!it. The wind was blowing a stiff gale di rectly toward the Canadian shore, and Harry Haw the beach, where Bessie still stood watching after him, fast re ceding from view. Bessie saw that something serious had happened, and that her lover was powerless to return to the shore. She bitterly repented her rash words and stood there watching the fast re ceding boat, all the tfmS Her terror in creasing. Finally, when it disappeared from her view in the distance, she ran shrieking to the cottage where she was stopping, declaring to her astonished friends that Harry was dead, and she was liia murderer. When her friends heard of the acci dent which had befallen Harry, they had but little hopes ot ever seeing him alive again; still for Bessie's sake they ; tried to make matters appear as favor able as possible. As for Bessie, she was half crazed I and sick with grief and remorse, and the hastily summoned physician ex pressed grave doubts of her retaining her wits should the young man be lost. In tho meanwhile Harry was steadily driven out on tho bosom of the deep. He fully realized the peril of his posi tion. His boat was a frail one, and, besides, somewhat old, so that it was liable to founder any moment and leave him at the mercy of the waves. In anticipation of such an event lie ' removed his coat, vest and boots, so as to be encumbered as little as possible. There were several pieces of rope in the boat and he fastened them to his body so that he could use them to bind pieces of the boat together in case it should founder, and thus make a rude raft, which would assist him greatly to keep afloat. He was kept quite busy bailing out the frail craft with an old tin pail, which happened to be in the boat. It was about tlireo o'clock in the afternoon when he commenced his perilous voyage, and it was with no little anxiety ho saw the sun go down, and wondered if he should ever see it rise again. It seemed to him that the long weary hours of darkness would never pass, but at last it began to grow light in the east. He had eagerly hoped that daylight would show a vessel near him but he vainly scanned the horizon in search of one. The wind veered suddenly after day light and blew him and his little boat westward up the lake. Ho was wet to the skin, with the fly ing spray, and the heat of the sun as it rose, proved very welcome to him. All day he drove before the wind without seeing any ship, and night found his little ship apparently as sound as when he embarked in it. The second night was one of weary watching and laboring to keop the boat from swamping. The wind shifted again in the night and blew from the west, driving him back toward the east. Daylight came at last, but found no ship in sight. The wind began to blow hard and soon had raised to a perfect gale. Ho was almost worn out with fatigue exposure and hunger and he felt that , he would he unable to hold out much ; longer. Suddenly the little boat, which had j I weathered the storm so long, went to pieces, and he found himself struggling in the waves. He was an export swimmer, and by hard work he managed to keep afloat | and lash together two of the largest pieces of tho wrecked craft with tho , ropes he had saved. Clambering up on this rude raft, ho found to his relief that it would sustain his weight, and that it was much easier to cling to it than he had supposed it would be. Life seemed doubly dear to him, now that its continuance appeared so uncer tain, and he determined to struggle to tlio last with the elements for an exist ence. The afternoon was half gone when his eyes were gladdened by the sight of a sail bearing directly toward him from the west. How slowly it seemed to him the vessel approached, and his mind was filled with the fear that she might tack off in some other direction before he was seen. But she came steadily on 'till within about a half a mile, when they saw him. The ship came as close to him as it could, and then lay to while a boat was lowered. Joy aud hope had taken the place of i despair in Harry's heart when lie saw that his rescue was certain. The men soon had him in the boat with them, and then the reaction came and he fainted. Kind liands lifted him to the deck ol the vessel and carried him below, where he received every attention which the men could give him. The vessel was bound for Oswego, only fifteen miles from where they picked Harry up. Tho next morning the ship dropped ; anchor close to the shore, and i Harry, after bidding his kind rescuers good-by, went ashore. They had fitted him out with clothes on the vessel, not so good or so nice a fit as those he was accustomed to wear ing, but still very acceptable. He lost no time in hastening to the depot and taking the first train to the village near which they were camped, nearly sixty miles away. He reached there that evening, after an absence oi three days. His father who had been telegraphed to and had come down, had given his son up for lost, and was about to return to the city to break the news as gently as possible to his wife. When Harry came back alive and well, ho was welcomed as one returned from the dead. He had thought he would treat Bes sie a little cool for her language of a few days before, but when ho learned that slie was sick in bed and half crazed with grief over his sup posed loss, love overcame his anger and he hastened at once to her side. His return did more than all the doctori in Christendom could have done for her, I and in a few days she was as well as ever. A month from the day of Harry's re- ; turn a grand wedding took place at the home of Bessie's parents, in ltochester, and she became Mrs. Harry LeMar. The lesson Bessie learned in those few days of agony was a bitter one, but her whole future lifo was better for it. ( West I.Milan Carriers. Tho crcole porteuse, or female carrier of the AY'est Indies, furnishes a remark able proof that great physieial energy and endurance can oxist in the tropics. At a very early age, perhaps at five years, Hays Lafcadio Hearn, she learns to carry small articles upon her head, a bowl of rice, or even an orange on n plate, and at nine or ten she is able to I carry a basket or trail—a wooden tray ! with deep, sloping sides—containing ! twenty or thirty pounds. Then she j walks barefoot beside her mother,twelve or fifteen miles a day. At sixteen, she is a tall, robust girl, and cai ries a burden of one hundred and twenty or one hundred and fifty pounds weight. She now earns about ?ix dollars a month, by walking fifty miles a day, as an itinerant seller. f There are never old porteuses; to do ! the work even at forty, indicates a con stitution of astonishing strength. After i the force of youth and health is spent, | the poor carrier must seek lighter labor. As a rule, the weight is such that no well-freighted porteuse can load or un load un assisted. The effort to do so would burst a blood-vessel or rupture a muscle. In preparing for her journey, ! the young merchant puts on her poorest and lightest robe, and binds a plain (landkercbief about her head. On tile sop of this is placed another handker- j chief folded, to form a pad, and on this i rests the great loaded trail. She wears ao shoes. She must climb and descend | thousands of feet every day, over slopes | o steep that the horses of the country | break down, after a few years of similar I journeying. The soles of her feet be come so tough that they feel no rough ness, and present to tho sharp pebbles A surface at once yielding and resisting, like a cushion of solid rubber. Young girls very often set off to gether, and keep step and time through out their journey, but the veterans, or women selected for special work, usu ally go alone. To the latter class be long girls employed by certain great bakeries. They are the most heavily laden of all, and carry baskets of astounding size far up into the moun tains, so as to furnish country families with fresh bread, at an early hour. At sundown, the porteuses are coming from far Grand Ause to halt a moment in this village. They are going to sit down on the roadside before the house of the baker, and his great black work man, Jean-Marie, stands waiting to re lieve them of their load. Here tliey come, the girls, yellow, red, black. See the flash of tho yellow feet, where they ' touch the light! All smile to see Jean- Marie waiting for tliem, and to hear his . deep, kind voice cry out: "How art thou, dear? How goes it , with thee ?" "All sweetly, dear; and thou?" some of them make answer. But others, j over-wen t v, cry to him: "Unload IMO quickly, dear, for lam very, very weary." Then he takes away their burdens, fetches bread for them, and says little foolish things to make them smile. ! And they are pleased, and laugh like children, as they sit down on the road there ; to munch their dry bread. Monopoly of Cirlof. The colored people in a small town iu Georgia had gathered at their church to hold funeral services over the remains of a woman who had died a couple of days before, says the Chattanooga Times, and the ceremonies were about to begin when the bereaved husband, who was a large, corpulent man, beck oned to one of the men standing in the I vestibule to follow him to the horse shed |in the rear of the church. When they | arrived there the bereaved turned on , bim with: "See lieali, Moses, I wants an under standin' wid yo' befo' dis funeral goes any furder." "What is it, Julius?" asked the other. "Las' week, when we buried Henry Carter's wife, yo' was right at hand. , Yo' crowded yo'self up to de front. When de weepin' begun yo' set yo'self to work an' moaned an' took on until Henry hadn't no show 'tall. Some of de white folks reckoned yo' was de be reaved yo'self." "1 dun couldn't help it, Julius." "Yo' couldn't? Well, now, let me give vo' a pinter. Lucinda was my wife an'nobody else's. She libed wid me an' died wid me, an' I'se got to foot all de'spenses. Now, den, when de sad ness begins I'zo No. 1 from start to finish. I'ze de bereaved, while yo' is only an outsider who feels sad 'cause I'ze left all alone in dis world. If yo' go to takin' on like lyo' did last week, I I'ze gwine ter forgit my great loss jist I long 'nuff to turn around an' gin yo' j such a lift under tho oar dat you'll j reckon yo' is tho subject of the funeral. Do yo' lia'r me, Moses?" "I does." "Den cum along, an' reoommember I what I'ze been saying. Better take a j seat in de back row an' hole yo'self down, for at the werry fust whoop of sorrow I'zo gwine to light on yo' wid fl fo'ce of fo'teeu boss power." Putting: Thing* in Ordor. Everybody knows that we men owe an immense and ever accumulating debt to the ladies. One of its principal items is tho gratitude due to them for putting our things to right and keeping them in order. Rough and disorderly as we are, what should we do without ! their neat-handed ministration? What husband, that remembers the j hopeless chaos of his bachelor bureau, ; and contrasts it with the trim and tidy | appearance of the drawers in which | wifely care has his shirts, I handkerchiefs and socks in jierfect har mony with heaven's first law, does not bless the day when he emerged from the single state into double blessed ness? How delightful to find the shiit bosom uniformily "cream-laicl" and guiltless of twist and wrinkle, the hose always duly mated, the convenient string and the indispensable button ever j in place. Looking back on tho higgledy-pig gledy days of his hermit life, the bene dict blessed with a notable helpmeet pities from the bottom of his heart such of his old companions as arc yet un- ' coupled.— New York Ledger. Not No Near Sighted After All. "Herbert," she said with a melting mellifluonsness in her voice that sounded like the ripple of an orange ice as it thaws, "Herbert!" "What is it?" asked Herbert. And the cold firmness of his tones showed that he meant every word of it. "Would von love me jnst as well if you knew that I am very nearsighted?" "Why, why," he stammered, "of course I would; hut are you ?" "Yes, lam afraid so. Just as a test —I can't read a word of that sign across the street; can you ?" "Yes," said Herbert, resignedly, "I can. ;It says, 'lce cream.'" —Wash- inglon Post. Only Walting. A man who boarded an open car v> Jefferson avenue found a woman occu pying tlmt end of tho seat, while all the 1 rest of it was empty. Ho stood for a moment vailing for her to "hitch," but as she made uo move ho quietly asked: j "Madam, do you wish mo to step on I you?" "If you dare to!" she promptly re | plied. "My husband tried it this ! morning and got left, and now I'm i waiting for someone else!" He went back to the last seat.— De- I troit Free Pre,us. HEAVEN will be full of surprises, but | none greater than when a man realizes that all his gocd intentions have put no jewel in his crown— Atchison I UIoIJU. IV WANDERER'S LETTER. MOTES AND OBSERVATIONS IN THE SOUTHWEST. q>rea<liiifr Texas—The Largest State in the Union Kiijoylng a Boom—Active Compe tition Among the Leading Cities—North ern Capital Invited—Railroad Interests Developing and Land Rooms Everywhere- DOUBT if nny one lrefc V I in the outside world I appreciates the sort I boom that this I is enjoying at rI this particular mo- I zZsf " meut, and it is not —* a matter of immedi ate growth. It has been going on for several years; in fact, no Texan likes to have you speak of "the boom." He al ways says, "We are not having a boom; we do not want a boom: we are having simply tho steady, natural growth to which our Stato is entitled." But at the • same time boomers are at work, and you moot them in every city where you go. And they are more nearly like the West ern boomer than any other class in the country. In fact, some of them come from the West. This part of Texas far more nearly resembles a Western than a Southern State. BOOMING THINGS AT DALLAS. There is such a heavy Democratic ma- CITY HALL, DALLAS, TEXAS. jority tnnt voting and counting arc both honest, and there is little, if any, com plaint thnt persons attempt to manipu late elections. Every one hero is busy making money, and I am glad to note that every one succeeds. This is tho first consideration here, and politics has to "take a back seat " Just stop and think what some of the cities of this Stato are accomplishing. I visited Dallas and found it a city of beautiful homos; houses laid out in villa lots, with suburbs which h tve sprung up like tho growth of a night into magnificent city sites. Manufactures have been encouraged, and city improve ments have been lavishly attended to. Dallas has made a splendid fight for supremacy and the control of the busi ness of its section. It is still growing, and prices of real estate wore never be fore so high; still there is no sign of a decline. Northern capital is offering it self freely, and the people are as buoyant as they wore two years ago, when tho boom was supposed to be at its height. FORT WORTII AND ITS RIVAL. Fort Worth, only thirty miles from Dal las to tho westward, is a rival of the former place. It claims to be tho ontre pot for all the groat trade of the West and Northwest, so far as this State is STREET SCENE, SHERMAN, TEXAS. concerned. There is nbout Fort Worth much of the aspect of a frontier city, and it has tho appearance of Minneapolis and St. Paul in tho days precediug theii phenomenal growth. Electric street cars arc hero, as in Dallas and other Texas cities; there is an excellent water supply, an electric-light plant, and the hand of improvement is shown everywhere. It was at Fort Worth that tho famous Spiing Palace was located, which was I recently by tiro, and at which I tho son of the President, Mr. Ilus soll B. Harrison, distinguished him self by assisting men, women, and children to escape. This Spring Palace contained an exhibit of all the wonderful products of tho State of Tex as. Its destruction was a severe blow to Fort Worth and tho entire State, but with a wonderful display of energy tho people havo decided to rebuild it next year; to make it of iron, fire-proof, and to expend $300,000 in its construction. When this is finished it will bo one of the marvels of the land. THE NORTH TEXAS ROOM. Gainesville, in the north of Texas, has been one of the smaller cities, but it is just waking up to the fact that it is in every way deserving of the riso that other SOME OF THE IION. ROGER Q. MILLS, COBSICANA, TEXAS. aities are enjoying. I have learned re cently ot a combination of capitalists to put Gainesville to the front. It is cer ;ainly one of (he pleasantest cities in the State, and its surroundings presago n wonderful growth and life. Sherman, to tho southeast of Gaines ville, has been ono of the oldest and most conservative cities of Texas. With a population of from 15,000 to 18,000, it probably has more wealth than any city of its size, and it has boon ono of the largest banking cities of tho State. One of the banks, under the control of Mr. Tom (not Thomas) Randolph, has a capital of $1,000,000. Mr. Randolph had the honor of being tho youngest bank president in the United States. At the ago of 20, on tho death of the President, he was elected to take his place, but under tho law tho courts had to legalize his actions, as ho was still a minor and theroforo debarred from discharging im portant trusts. The city of Sherm o " stands in probably the richest farming rogion of the northern part of tho Stato. A RAILROAD TOWN. One of the liveliest and most pro gressive cities in Texas, nnu one nearest tho northern border, is Denisou. Strangely enough, it stands in the conlor of a rich black agricultural soil, while its own town site is a sort of sandy loam, so that the immediate outlying country is famous for its small fruits and vegetables, while beyond it a few miles come the rich cot ton and corn lands. DeciHon has this advantage, that it is within a few miles of the famous coal-fields of tho Indian Ter ritory. It is not very far from the iron ♦ ■'nes of the State. Because of its near ss to the coal rogion, extensive railway I shops havo been erected, emplovincr six or seven Hundred men, and to their credit znost of the employes have established themselves in comfortable homes which they own. It has an exposition building in which a splendid display of limestone, granite, kaolin, lire-brick, clay, galena, and other minerals are made. It is n wonderful exhibition, and one who looks upon it can readily understand why Den- J ison has had such an extraordinary " l RUINS OF THE TEXAS SPRING PALACE, FORI WORTH, TEXAS. 1 j growth. The establishment of a cotton j factory here has been secured, and the , building is just being erected. It will be j , one of the largest cotton factories in the i South, with 25,000 spindles, and is to 1 ] employ 600 persons. An electrio and; motor system of cars and a splendid 1 water system make the city attractive. I 1 CREDIT TO NORTHERN 1 NTERPRISE. I J In making my hurried trip in Texas, I havo been attracted by the spirit of en terprise everywhere. There is a natural strife to secure railroads, and corpora- J tions take advantage of this to secure large bonuses. In this way the Texas i and Pacific received property from Fort i Worth which is now worth $2,000,000. The city of Sherman, some years, ago re- ' fused a quarter of a million to the Mis souri, Kansas and Texas Railway, and it was diverted from that direction to Deni-! son, and has been woith to the latter city 1 every dollar of the bounty that they paid ; for it. The funds for railroad, munu- i factoring, and other enterprises are raised by the cities, everybody contributing, 1 and some contributing more than they really feol they should. But the contri butions all come back in the growth and impulse given to the towns. The same sort of enterprise in Northern cities would amaze the people, and would hardlv re sult in tho same sort of boom that Texas enjoys. Texas is welcoming a cons ant stream of immigrants and offering to cap ital every facility for investment and speculation. Tho newcomer will find himself liable to be misled, and must ex- 1 pect to meet some very shrewd men in his operations, but he only needs to em- j ploy ordinary tact to secure his bargains and make tho most of them. WANDERER. DALLAS, Tex., June, 1890. l'arulyzed by a Scra'ch. "I liave lead of men being paralyzed by a wound and unable to move," said a well-known prominent Maine office- j holder, "and I believe it. I know that' there have been many cases of the kind, and one of them in particular has such a personal twist that I have good reason to remember. "It was at the battle of Chantilly in the early part of the light. We had approached a low, rambling fence—a Virginia fence, as they were called— I and I had my gnu through it and was j doing what service I could. I saw the \ splinter fly from a piece of that fence j under tho impetus of a ball from the enemy. In the lightning flash of the flying wood I seemed to find time to 1 dodge, and there was a quick pain like the searing of a hot iron and the sjilin-! ter was through my hat-band and along my scalp, penetrating it, but not injuring the skull. "The blow was severe and stunned mo, and I remember as well my last look at the scene—the fighting troops, the smoke, the battle and tho tramp ling men. I foil back, my legs half doubled up beneath me, and in a mo- 1 ment my strength was gone and I was powerless. I saw everything. Men fell upon me. Horses reared around me. The battle was on all sides. "My w its were clear, my brain un- ; clouded, but there was I, dying a death momentarily, alive, yet dead and suf- j fering moro tortures than I thought life could have. I lay there perhaps an hour—every moment a year of agony—when I felt some one's hand j on my collar, and I was dragged out and tinned on my face, where I lay for j a moment as some one rifled my car tridge box. The motion saveil me. My pulse seemed to stir, my heart beat, my will to re-exert itself, and in a few minutes I was myself. The wound was so small that I staunched it with my handkerchief and in half an hour I was as well as ever. "If the hand had not found my coat collar I should have been bleaching my bones on Chantilly at this moment in- 1 stead of here talking to you, and it would have been tough to have passed in on such a scratch."— Lewiston Journal. Dreaming; Out un Available Story. Having a severe cold in the head, o literary friend <f mine had taken a hot bath before retiring and a dose oi fine whisky. "I slept like a log," he says, "until about 5 o'clock. "YVlien I awoke my head was as clear as a bell and I found myself interested in a pe culiar story which, in all symmetry, was passing through my mind. The plot was somewhat complicated, but thoroughly artistic. I was astonished, and at first thought that my memory WHS recalling some tale that I had read. As I reviewed tho story, how ever, I realized that it was eminently original. "Much pleased at this seeming pre sentation from the gods of a literary nugget, I composed myself to sleep and in the morning found that the tale was still mine. Some weeks later 1 received an order from a syndicate for a story of 10,000 words. I had thirty six hours in which to produce the manuscript. The plot that had been the outcome of a hot bath, whisky, and sound sleep now came into play, and I had no difficulty in completing my story within the allotted time. As I received $l5O for it, I am now pa tiently awaiting another cold in th " —Watihirwtnn Post, Deceptive False Curls. Every one must have noticed the numbers of ladies who wear short, curly hair at present. It may astonish you to learn that most of these charm ing curls are falsa Typhoid and other fevers have played havoc with lioir this winter. After such an illness the hair is almost invariably seriously injured, and even if it does not fall ont it be comes so dry and harsh that there is nothing to bo done but to shave it close, and wait for a new growth. Unless tho hair grows very rapidly it will be two or three months before it is long enough to look well, and in the mean time a wig is a necessity. The short, curly hair looks more natural than a dressed wig, and is easier to keep in ordor, so most ladies prefer them. Elderly ladies, however, often use French twists uud pompadours. Few people know how common wigs are. I have some times sold five or six in one day, and a great many ladies say they are sorry i their own hair grows out, as the wig' has saved them so much time and I trouble. — lnterview with a SL Louis Wig maker, W HEN the bad boy puts a bent pin in he teacher's chair, ho is at least justi lied in predicting an early spring. DOINGS OF WOMEN FOLK NEWS. NOTES AND GOSSIP ABOUT FEMININE AFFAIRS. Not Many Women I'rinterti —Tlio Abune of Coffee— Women In the Diasecting Room— An Effective Dinner Dreas—English anil American Girl*. A noted Now Y'ork oostumer has made a dinner dress intended for a brunette. The train is a long one of the richest black Lyons velvet, while the front is of broadcloth, the shade being a per fectly clear yellow, with not a tinge of green it. The bodice is pointed, and of velvet. A plastron of the cloth is set in front, overlaid partially with gold passementerie, and the short sleeves, very closely shirred, are also of the cloth. Cut very decollete, the edge of the bodice is defined with a narrow gold cord. Only gold can be worn with this costume, so the necklace will he of Etruscan gold in pendants and balls, while in the hair will be worn three gold fillets. The stockings of black silk, the slippers black velvet, with large gold buckles upon them. How to Save Hoy a. Women who have sons to rear, and dread the demoralizing influences of bad associates, ought to understand the nature of young mauhood. It is exces sively restless. It is disturbed by vain ambition, by thirst for action, by long ings for excitements, by irrepressible desires to touch life in manifold ways. If you, mothers, rear your sons so that your homes are associated with the re pression of natural instincts you will be sure to throw them in the society that in any measure can supply the end of their hearts. They go to the public house at first for the animated and hi larious companionship they find there, whicli they find does so much to re press the disturbing restlessness in their breasts. ! See to it, then, t*>at their homes com- I pete with public places in their attract iveness. Open your blinds by day and light bright fires by night. II- I lumino your rooms. Hang pictures upon the walls. Put books and news papers upon your tables. Have music , and entertaining games. Banish de i mons of dullness and apathy that have so long ruled in your household, and bring in mirth and good cheer. Invent occupations for your sons. Stimulate their ambitions in worthy directions® | While yu make home their delight, fill them with higher purposes than mere pleasure. Whether they shall pass happy boyhood and enter upon manhood with refined tastes and noble I ambitions depends on you.— Ham's I Horn. EiikUhli anil Amorlcun Girln. Contrasting English and Amerioan girls, W. AS'. Story tlniß writes in "Con f versations in a Studio:" "Take nil En glish girl and [rat lief beside an Ainer can girl whose ancestry is pure English and there is a reu arkable difference be tween them in bhnpe, nature, and color, i The American, as a rule, is slenderer, fairor, and slighter-limbed, thinner foutnred and mors vivacious and ex cited in manner. Tlio English girl is ! fulier, rosier in col >r, heavier in build and calmer. The voice of the American is thin and high, that of the English girl is rieli and low. But where you will find the greater physical difference l is in the feet aud hands. The Ameri i can's foot is snia 1, thin, high-arched and tendonous in the ankle. The En glish girl's is plum i, flat, and full at the j ankle. There is tie same difference in j the hands. Take i cast from an En glish aud America! foot, and any one can distinguish tliin with half an eye. i All the attachment, as they are called, j are longer and mort tendonous in the American than in tie English. There is something charui ng in the one as of a rose, and in the qiher of a lily. Where the English have tie advantage over the American is in their voices and in tonations. An English woman's voice is a pleasure to hem—so sweet and low nud pleasant in its nodulations—while the Americans wline with a liigh i pitched voice. The latter sing better j than the English, bicause the English never can fully utter their voice and throw it out. Cortanly the American girls are sometimes ery handsome, and tlioy generally ha,e a refinement of | look and feature, if not manner. In their ways, too, the e is a certain wild willfulness and bdependence which, i when it does not getoo far (as it fre quently does,) is vf y attractive." Women In tho lisHoctlng Room. It is often asked low tho women take i • the awful exponent- of the dissecting ' i room and the hospital, says the Balti ■ j more American. lowcver the nerves > of the sex genera ly may be, these j I strong-hearted wonbn never falter. Dr. ' [ Winslow stated to he reporter that, during the entire hisory of the institu ' j tion, there had never been one case of | fainting. One of tin ladies was asked i by the reporter concerning her feelings 'j when she first begad work in the dis -1! seeting room. Sue Inted that the hor :, ror of what she wouu see had been so ' | exaggerated to her beforehand, and she ' i had been led, througbpopular report, to " ; expect so much mora ban the reality, 3 1 that her nerves were iraecd to such a 5 degree that sho experienced no very > | disagreeable imprei lions. Tho first > body was a fresh on i and tho odor, -'; therefore, not very bd. It was that of s J a colored person, and eemed like a ma ' j hogany statue streti led on the table. 1 j The bodies are never hought of as con nected with human b 'ngs," hut as mere I things, mere mnchim , whose mechan j ism is to be invest igaed. 1 | The ladies work tw> and two, choos ing as their companion those congenial 1 j to them socially, as Veil as from their ! style of work. TlioO'h they work so ' . courageously over tieir horriblo vic -1 j tims, these young laiies are not strang ers to human fear. )ne of them con fesses that, as she was left alone for | several minutes by ler companion one 1 I wintry evening towed 7 o'clock, she | felt some decidedly inpleasant feelings 1 as she sat among th( bodies, and also' confessed that, whil< she could make herself do anything he had to do, she would not like very much to enter a ; dissecting-room alcie in the dead of night. She laughei at her own feeling, but said that it is oily in such moments that she realizes thi.- these things have ouco been living penons. Not Many Wo ne ,i J'rlntera. A\ omen printers ew years ago were a standing menace to ,ie trade, in the view of the men printers and the question of th tir admittance to typographical unions threatened become a burning issue in the labor w rid. In this city it was settled for the time being by the I admission of tho wOaen to Union No. (>, I with the condition t. ; at they bo not al lowed to wor* lor less wages man men. This handicapped the women heavily, for the trade is not one in which the woman can hold her own with a man on equal terms, but even at this it was not satisfactory to a large element among the men, who objected to having women in the trade at all, and the trouble con tin uafly threatened to break out in new spots. Meantime, however, the matter has beeq summarily settled out of court, as it were. Women don't want to be printers any more. The intro- Iduction of the typewriter and the open ing up of other lines of employment more agreeable and suitable for a ■woman seem to have relieved the fe male labor market of the greater of the women who used to want to be printers. It is said by officers of Typographical Union No. 0 "that there are not over three hundred womeu printers in New York now. One hundred of these are in the Union. They work chiefly in large book printing offices, where the hours are easy and there is no rush. A few are in the morning newspaper offices, working as distributers in the afternoon. Women have worked as compositors on some of the morning papers, but the cases were exceptional, such as where a man died and his widow was allowed to take his case un til she could get something better to do. It is thought that the number of women printers is decreasing constantly in spite of the rapid growth of the trade. Men say it is a good thing, not only for selfish reasons, but because the trade, although generally classed a9 a light ( and easy one, is really too wearisome, too unhealthy, and in other ways un- Buited for women. The Abune of Coffeo. Much has been said, savs the British Medical Journal , concerning the un doubtedly evil effects of excessive tea drinking. Dr. F. Mendel has recently enjoyed opportunities of studying the results of an unbridled abuse of coffee, and his results are now published. The great industrial center round Essen includes a very large female popula tion. While the women of the working classes in this country are often ad dicted to dosing themselves with tea that has stood too long, it appears that the workmen's wives at Essen drink coffee from morning till night. Some consume over a pound of Ceylon coffee weekly, and one pound contains over | sixty-four grains of caffeine. In conae- f quence, nervous muscular and circula tory disturbances are frequent. The nerve symptoms are characterized by a feeling of general weakness, depression j? of spirits and aversion for labor, even . in industrious subjects, with headache and insomnia. A strong dose of coffee causes the temporary disappearance of all these symptoms. The muscular symptoms consist of distinct muscular weakness and trem- ? bling of the hands, even during rest. j The circulatory symptoms are marked j by a small, rapid, irregular pulse and f feeble impulse of the apex of the heart. y Palpitations and heaviness at the pre- ; cordial region are frequent. The hands \ and feet feel very cold, and the com- 1 plexion becomes sallow. Dyspeptic } symptoms, chiefly of the nervous type, t are very common. Acne rosacea is | seen in a large number of the sufierers. Those cofl'ee-drinkers oannot be cured by simple abstention from their favorite drink with substitution of milk as a beverage. They require rest from work, open-air exercise, cold ablutions, followed by friction, and small doses of i brandy. Care must be taken, especially j when a large body of working-women lare under the care of a medical officer, lest the flrst and last items of treatment do not lead to malingering. A Haunted Oak. Up to the year 1800 their stood on the main road leading to Suffolk, Nause tnond county, Ya., a venerable white oak. Many are the stories told of a ghostly visitant to this tree every night. j The story had it, that in 1830 a murder . was committed at the foot of this ( monarch for the purpose of robbery and ' that the money taken from the victim was buried there. Every attempt to secure it had failed because a phan tom horseman was guarding the oak. It was said of this tree that it bore a kind of fruit, not unpalatable, called oakballs, which furnished to the credu lous additional evidence that treasure was at its roots. One night a party set out with the intention of securing the hidden riches. They brought with them an ax, a pick and two spades. Arrived at the tree they began excavating the earth, being on the alert for any unusual sight or sound, when a scream of unearthly character pierced the air. A second I and third shriek were heard, followed by the cry "Help! oh my God!" The diggers looking across the road, saw, \ in the full glare of the moon, a large powerful bay horse, with a rider top pling from the saddle. He fell to the ground with his face toward the tree and seemed gasping for breath. The liorse began to melt gradually away before the astonished and terror-stricken gaze of the party. As soon as the horse disappeared, the fallen rider rose to his feet and started directly for the tree. The treasure seekers immediately started on a run, glancing behind to see if they were pursued. The rider, without heeding them, went to the tree, and, pointing with his right hand to the ground at the root, uttered a deep groan and vanished. Nobody has since visited the tree in the night time. Senator Jones' Sliver Dollar Story. Senator Jones, of Nevada, was twitted by Senator McPberson, of New Jersey, in the course of his silver speech th® other day, with the fact that the silver dollars were only worth 72 cents. Of course it "reminded him of a little story." "I recollect," said he, "talking on this subject once with some Senators in Itho cloak-room. During the conversa tion one of the Senate pages brought ine a telegram, on which he said the telegraph messenger had told him there were 51) cents due. I gave the page a silver dollar and said to him: " 'I have been informed by some very respectable and intellectual gentlemen in here, some of them candulatos for the Presidency even, that this dollar is worth only 75 cents. Ido not want to t jchoat a little boy. Take this out, and if the boy thinkß it worth only 75 cental die can send me back 25 conts, and if he thinks it is worth a dollar he oah jsend mo back 50 cents. I will leave it to him.' , "The page brought back 50 cents and isuid the telegraph boy told him he did not kuow what those old 'duffers' in itliore might say, but it was as good a idollar as he wanted and was very hard jto got." (Laughter.) Washington 'Cor. N. T. Tribune. Is IT quite right to oall an expert oarsman a lirst-closs sculler.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers